


just one rose

by twistedroses



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bachelor AU, Bachelorette AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5972281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedroses/pseuds/twistedroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern CS AU, the Bachelor Style. After being reluctantly signed up for the show, Killian Jones gets himself into something more than he bargained for with Emma Swan as the Bachelorette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just one rose

**Author's Note:**

> Are you all ready for the silliest thing I’ve ever written in my life? That’s right – a Bachelor AU. The show is my guilty pleasure and I couldn’t stop myself from writing a CS AU version of it, so here goes nothing.

_New York City, seven months ago_

When Killian Jones first moves to the United States, it is to escape his past. Dishonourably discharged from the British Navy after nearly inciting a mutiny about the terrible leadership of some higher up that had resulted in his brother’s death, he had been wild and loose for a long time. While still crazed with grief over the loss of his brother, there had been a bright light – _Milah, sweet Milah_ – but it too had ended terribly, and now when Killian thinks of his former home in England, he thinks only of pain and misery.

America is to be his new start, the dream it has been for so many others. He lives in New York City with his roommate, a young woman whose hippie parents had named Tinkerbell. She suits the name: small, blonde, pixie-like, and ready to kill you if you make fun of her name – Killian learned that the hard way. He and Tink have known each other a long time, having met when staying in hostels during their time in New York while both apartment hunting. He was from England, she from New Zealand, and their foreignness to all things New York City had bonded them together, and, three years later, still remain the best of friends and roommates.

For the most part.

If he could just change one tiny thing, it would be eliminating her fascination with reality television. He can barely stand the stuff – save MasterChef, his one weakness – and one chilly Monday night, like all other Mondays for the last twelve weeks, she settles down to watch the finale of her winter favourite, The Bachelor.

“Killian, come watch this with me.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Tink, why the bloody hell do you think I want to watch this with you?”

“You made me watch that stupid cooking show the other day,” she points out. “Watch this and we’re equal.”

There is a strange gleam to her eye that Killian can’t place. She is also technically telling the truth about him making her watch MasterChef, but that doesn’t stop his muttered complaints as he sits down beside her. When the show starts, he groans and makes snide comments until she hits him with the pillow, and, not willing to risk her smacking him again, resorts to sulking in silence instead. The Bachelor dude is a total cad, some idiot named Walsh, and the two ladies as his final two are much too lovely for the jerk.

Tink hurriedly updates him on the first’s life as she goes on her final date with Walsh – young, beautiful, a waitress from the Midwest – but while Walsh seems entirely captivated by her, Killian finds nothing particular stimulating.

But when the date ends, and the next one begins, Killian can’t help himself but sit up straighter at the sight of the beautiful blonde who appears on the screen. She is more serious than the bubbly waitress, and there is something guarded in her green eyes as she greets Walsh with nothing more than a quick kiss. As they are swept away in a helicopter to a private island, Killian finds himself more and more interested in this silly show, more drawn to the wide eyes of excitement of the blonde as the helicopter soars over the beautiful crystal seas outside Fiji.

“Who is that?” he asks, unable to help himself. 

“That’s Emma,” Tink replies through a mouthful of popcorn. “Her story is so sad, Killian, you wouldn’t believe it.”

Killian hates himself for wanting to know more. “Oh?”

A flash of triumph shines in Tink’s eyes, and she nods. “Orphan from birth. Grew up in the foster system. Had a baby at 17 or 18 while she was in juvy. Her ex is a huge jerk, got arrested for trying to get into Canada with a stolen car after he abandoned her and set her up for his crime. Once she got out, and he did too, he tried to take custody of her son, and it was a legal battle for years, and at one point, she says she almost lost him to the foster system. Luckily, that got worked out and it’s just her and Henry now, but still. She hasn’t had it easy.”

But Emma doesn’t look like she’s let that terrible life get to her. She has a radiant smile, so wide and lovely it crinkles the edges of her eyes when she talks about her son to Walsh. He seems genuinely interested, Killian will give him that, but he still quickly veers the conversation to another topic the moment Emma pauses to take a breath.

He can see the flash of irritation in her eyes at that, but she has a quick poker face, and the look vanishes as quickly as it comes. Their date continues, and Killian can’t help but thinking about how unfitted the pair of these two are for each other. Sure, he’s no expert in the romance department – his own endless list of failed relationships, for one reason or another, can attest to that – but even he can tell this is not going to work out.

And, in the end, he’s right. On a breathtaking Fijian beach, Walsh chooses the chattering waitress over the single mom. Emma doesn’t look heartbroken when he tells her, more disappointed and resigned and she doesn’t even cry. In fact, as Walsh blubbers empty excuses and ‘I just love someone else more’, Emma simply walks away, head held high. Tink lets out a squeal of pride at that, and Killian feels a strange sense of it too as the camera shows the shot over and over again from different angles.

“I’m so glad,” Tink admits, talking over Emma’s final interview with the producers in which she talks about how she’s just happy to get to go home and see her son. “That Walsh guy wasn’t right for her at all.”

The proposal to the waitress is dramatic and full of swooping lovey-dovey music, with declarations of eternal love and ‘you’re the only one for me’ that falls terribly short when, only twenty minutes later, on the after show, they announce their breakup. Turns out they hadn’t even made it two weeks, and can barely even look at each other when the host interviews them. When the host instead brings out Emma, she is bright-eyed and grinning, waving a bit hesitantly to the roaring crowd that gives her a standing ovation.

The host is much more eager to interview her than the bitter winner and her jerk of an ex-fiancé, and after a short back and forth, says, “And ladies and gentlemen, I am so thrilled to announce this news to you all tonight. For the upcoming Bachelorette, season 13, we will have the pleasure of watching our very own Emma Swan fall in love!”

Tink lets out a shriek of excitement to rival the cheers from the studio audience, and Killian jolts away from her in alarm.

“Oh, good! I’m so happy it’s her they chose!”

He rubs his ear that she screamed into, irritated. “I’ll say,” he mutters darkly.

She ignores him, and he notices that she’s staring at him instead of the TV now, that spark of something in her eyes back again.

“What?” he asks, suspicious immediately.

“You should sign up to be a contestant on Emma’s season!”

He stares at her, blinks, and then sighs. He gets to his feet and switches the TV off. “Okay, Tink, I think it’s time we both get to bed. You have had way too much wine and popcorn for one night and I have too much mind-numbing television to last me –”

“Killian, I’m serious!”

“And I’m exhausted,” he replies, patting her condescendingly on the head as he moves past her. “Goodnight.”

When he goes to bed that night, thoughts still swirling with the beautiful Emma, and he can’t help but imagine what would happen if he ever did get to meet her. Then he thinks about how much an idiot he is being, and when he wakes up, the show is just a memory, the thoughts of Emma a dream. Life goes on, he gets busier at his work, and the thoughts about the television show fade.

Until.  

About three weeks after the airing of the finale, he gets an email. He and Tink are both home, eating supper, when his iPhone dings, the screen lighting up with the preview of the message. _The Bachelorette Season 13 – Casting_.

He frowns for only a brief moment, before shrugging. “Junk mail,” he says to Tink absently. “From that stupid show you like.”

Her head snaps up, and she yelps in alarm, reaching across the table and swiping the phone from him before he gets the chance to delete the message. He stares at her, open-mouthed in shock and wondering what the hell she’s up to, and then, seeing her frantically read the email, eyes growing wider and wider, smile growing bigger and bigger, it clicks.

“Tink. You didn’t.”

She giggles almost hysterically, and extends the phone back to him. “They want you to come in for an audition!”

He snatches his phone from her grip. “I can’t believe you did that, Tink. There is no way in hell –”

“Killian,” she says, dragging out his name into a whine. “Come on.”

He shoots her a dark glare, and presses the delete button pointedly. “No.”

She glares right back. “You can delete it all you want,” she says, tugging her own phone out of her pocket and showing him the glowing screen, a new email alert having lit it up. “I already forwarded it to myself.”

Killian shakes his head, and buries his face in his hands. “Tink. No.”

She just shrugs, smiling knowingly. “We’ll see.”

He expects her to drop it by the next day, but Tink doesn’t give up that easy. She brings it up at every opportunity: during breakfast, during a text about asking the landlord to look into the busted dishwasher, and even in the middle of one of her late-night stumble ins, her ‘friend’ for the night still hanging off her mouth as she yells it at him through the closing bedroom door.

Killian has taken to threatening to sign her up for MasterChef as retaliation, but that doesn’t deter her at all; if anything, she rises to the challenge and agrees to go on it (and win to boot) if he’ll do her show in exchange.

He still refuses, even though the idea of watching Tink nearly set fire to a kitchen that isn’t their own _and_ on live television is tempting. But, on the night before the audition, when she forces him to come out to drinks with their group of friends, she turns the game by announcing it to them all.

Will thinks it’s hysterical – he almost falls off the chair when she makes the announcement – and Victor makes nothing more than a dirty joke that has all of them swatting him in disgust. Ruby, once they’ve all settled down from laughter, gets a curious look in her eyes, leaning across the table to stare at Killian.

“Not you too,” he groans instantly.

She doesn’t answer for a few moments. “I think it would be good for you,” she says, finally, and Will and Victor – who were still busy cracking jokes – fall silent. “I watched last season too, and I really like Emma. She is really great – I could see you guys together.”

“It is a TV show!” he exclaims, frustration at this whole scenario finally reaching a boiling point. “You only like her because the cameras made you like her! You have no idea who she really is.”

Ruby hums in thought, and sips her drink. “No, I guess not. But from what I saw, she looked genuine, Killian. A real person.” She pauses, and then adds, “She actually reminds me a lot of you.”

Killian sighs. “Ruby, I know you mean well, but, come on. A TV show about finding love? You honestly think something as crazy and wild as that is a good idea? It always ends with failed relationships and heartbreak.”

“I think you need something a little crazy and a little wild, Killian,” Tink says, elbowing her way back into the conversation. “You’ve been too unhappy for too long.”

She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t have too. Killian stares defiantly back at her, willing her to keep talking, but she just stares coolly back at him.

Will is now looking curious too, and he turns to Tink. “What’s this girl’s name?”

Tink pulls up a picture of Emma on her phone and reads her backstory to the boys, and then they fall aboard the train too. Especially when they learn she’s a mother – after Milah, they’ve determined Killian’s type alright. And finally, after the incessant whining and badgering, Killian finally agrees. Agrees to at least go to the stupid audition and give it a shot, if nothing else to get them off his back.

They all cheer, and the rest of the night is spent planning what he’ll say in his interview tomorrow. And then, the next day, when he goes to the audition, he ends up nailing it. The producers love him and cast him on the show almost immediately. He is hesitant (of course) about actually signing up, having done this to simply humour his friends. But then, he thinks about Emma’s beautiful smile, the guarded look in her eyes, the words from Ruby: _she reminds me of you_ , and before he talks himself out of it, he signs the contract.

When he gets home and tells Tink he has to start getting ready to go to LA for a couple months, and they’ll need to sort out the rent while he’s gone, she squeals in elation and pulls him in for a tight hug.

“You won’t regret this,” she says. “I promise.”

<>  

_New York City, four months ago_

On a late Thursday night, Killian returns to New York City, eyes still bloodshot and throat sore. After he wrestles his way into the small apartment, the keys unused for three solid months, he comes upon Tink sitting at the kitchen table. He’d called her from the airport in the Bahamas, had told her what happened; she takes one look at him and bursts into tears.

“I’m so sorry, Killian. This is all my fault. I’m the one who sent you in there –”

“No,” he says, voice hoarse from hours of disuse. “No, Tink, this wasn’t your fault.”

She shakes her head vigorously. “It is – Killian, I’m so –”

“I agreed to it, it’s my own damn fault."

“But you wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for me, Killian, I’m so sorry –”

“I’m going to bed,” he interrupts, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

But he doesn’t talk to her tomorrow. Or at least, he doesn’t talk to her about anything she really wants to hear about. She doesn’t bring it up, leaving him alone in his dark thoughts, and the others – Ruby especially – are similarly quiet about it all, simply murmuring condolences and apologies the next time they see him.

And, with that, there is no more mention of The Bachelorette or Emma Swan, and life goes on.

About a month and a half after he comes home, the show starts airing. Tink doesn’t make any comment about it even existing, but Killian knows the airdate from his contract and it is him that flips the TV on that first night. Tink is in the kitchen when he does so, and she freezes almost comically with the milk carton halfway to her glass.

“What are you doing?" 

He doesn’t answer, and a few minutes later – well into the backstory about Emma and Henry (Killian clutches the remote so hard he thinks he may break it) – Tink, milk and cookies in hand, comes to join him. They watch in silence for a while, the tension almost completely unbearable; Tink – Killian can see from the corner of his eye – looks like she may explode. When the guys start pulling up in the limos, start getting out and greeting Emma, Killian finally speaks.

  
“Just wait until you see what this idiot does in Vienna, Tink, it’s an absolute nightmare. I swear I’ve never seen a human being drink so much and still be conscious enough to run down a street completely naked at three in the morning.”

Tink laughs out loud, and the tension between them breaks. Killian continues his commentary on the guys (mostly nice, he has really nothing but good things to say, save a few jerks Emma let go so early he has all but forgotten about anyways) but then it’s his turn and he falls immediately silent again.

He is one of the guys they do the full backstory on, and it’s comically surreal to watch him walk around New York City as cameras film him behaving normally. They show him at work as the shipping manager, as he walks to get a coffee in the afternoon, a panoramic shot of him while he stands overlooking the Hudson River. He remembers how stupid he felt during the whole thing, but he’d signed the damn contract and the angry eyes of the producers had finally made him actually do it. The producers had found out about Milah during the interview, and force him to tell the story. He grits his teeth, a fresh wash of pain hitting him, as he watches himself tell all of America what her ex-husband did to her and what had happened to him as a result, holding up his prosthetic hand.

Thankfully, the scene shifts to him getting out of the limo, and walking down the driveway to Emma; he remembers what he’d thought at that moment, or rather that his brain had decided that thought was all too much at the sight of her. She was so beautiful – _still, always, forever_ – but the first time seeing her in person had taken his breath away. Even amongst all his nervousness about meeting her and realizing all the cameras would be literally watching him for the next three months, none of that had mattered anymore. It was as if nobody else in the world existed, no one but him and her.

He knows he stumbled on the way up to see her (having been so stupefied he couldn’t even put one foot in front of the other), but they’ve edited it out to make him seem more smooth and suave. He watches himself greet her (he, unlike many of the others, hadn’t made some stupid game or trick up to impress her) and she in turn greets him politely, just as with the others.

He barely remembers their interaction, having been so completely blindsided, and he actually enjoys watching it all replay in front of him. She asks immediately about his accent – a safe topic, she’d told him later – and they chat briefly about his move to the United States, Killian conveniently leaving out his discharge from the Navy (for now, anyways – he did tell her about it later, in one of their rare private moments) and just saying he came for a fresh start. She seems more intrigued by him than the other greetings Killian has watched so far, but he wonders if that’s just his biased opinion rearing its head.

Like with the others, Emma pulls him into a hug before he moves away into the mansion. He lets go of her pretty quickly, not wanting to overstep, and she says, “It was very nice to meet you. I’ll see you inside.”

He watches himself nod, smile at her, as he turns to head into the house. He remembers how he was just thinking then about not slipping on the sprayed down stones, and doesn’t realize that Emma has turned from her position to watch him enter the mansion.

A jolt of surprise runs through him; he hadn’t known Emma had watched him leave. She hasn’t done that for any of the other guys so far, and he sits, numb, through the next introduction, unsure of what to make of it.

Then he hardens his jaw, and steels his heart. There’s nothing to make of it now. The outcome is already determined.

He knows Tink is watching him carefully, but his eyes remained fixed on the TV. The next limo arrives, and his commentary resumes, though even he can tell his comments are not as funny as before. And then, finally, Graham Humbert steps out last.

He doesn’t remember Graham being the final one, but they edit it so he is. Killian’s eyes burn and his heart clenches as he watches, but he can’t look away. Emma is as polite with him as with the others, and he notices that, like with him, Graham is the only other man she turns around and watches disappear into the mansion.

The rest of the episode passes in a blur. There was drama that night, he remembers, two of the guys who drank too much and fell into the pool. The coverage of that takes up nearly all of the airtime; then it had been rather appalling, but watching it again, Killian cannot stop laughing. After the drama is over, the two men sent packing in their wet suits and grumbling all the while, Emma has polite, vague conversations with most of the men, and then it is his turn.

Their first real conversation is burned into his mind forever. At the time he’d been so enraptured with Emma he hadn’t even noticed the cameras, and it feels dreamlike watching it unfold in front of him once more.

“So, Killian from London, right?” Emma clarifies with a small smile, settling herself on a couch, patting the seat beside her.

He grins, and sits down. “That’s right. I live in New York now though.”

“What do you do in New York?”

“I’m a manager of a shipping yard,” he says. “And you – you’re a private investigator in Boston, right?”  

She nods, and they make small talk for a few minutes, nothing consequential, though at the time Killian felt like every word counted momentously.

“What about your son?” he asks in a break in the conversation, and Killian can’t even hear the nervousness he was feeling in his voice. “What’s he like?”

Emma smiles, eyes lighting up at the mention of Henry, and Killian, in the present, feels a sharp pain in his heart at the sight. “He’s the greatest kid in the world. Kind, sweet, thoughtful, a huge heart. He’s just honestly the best. Although, I’m sure I have a bit of a bias in that department, but still. He’s wonderful.”

Emma was completely right about Henry, as far as Killian is concerned. Though, that could be his own bias coming in now too, and that thought hurts him more than he likes to admit. He focuses back on the TV, where he watches himself follow up with another question. “What does he like to do for fun? Video games, sports?”

“He really likes reading,” Emma says fondly. “Anything he can get his hands on, though his current favourite is a book on fairy tales.”

“Oh, fairy tales?” Killian asks, and he remembers how he’d jumped at the opportunity to talk about something safe, something familiar to him. “I always used to like those when I was younger. Which one is his favourite?”

“Snow White,” Emma responds, with a smile. “Though my favourite to read to him is the Ugly Duckling story.”

They continued to talk for quite a while – Killian remembers the producers got a bit short with him later for taking up _too_ much time with Emma – but the episode doesn’t show it all, instead cutting away to Emma having a different conversation then, and he can’t help but feel disappointed that he won’t get to relive all his moments with Emma.

But, after that, Killian does get caught up in the episode, engrossed in his memories of the night and what they show, and is only drawn out of it when Tink smacks him with a pillow right across his face.

“You didn’t tell me you won the first impression rose!” she exclaims, just as Emma onscreen presents Killian with a brilliant red rose, pinning it snugly to his suit jacket.

Killian shoots Tink a look, and tosses the pillow back at her. “Because I knew you’d react like this.”

The show ends, with ‘an exciting look ahead to the upcoming season’ and he clenches his hand into a tight fist at the promo shots promising profound love and crushing heartbreak. Tink, wisely, flips the TV off before the promo gets into too much detail.

Her face is guarded, her teasing tone over the whole first impression rose thing subsided now and she asks, cautiously, “You okay?”

Killian nods tightly. “I’m fine. But, I think I’ll turn in for the night.” He gets to his feet, but pauses before he leaves the room, turning and smiling at Tink, still sitting on the couch. “Thanks for watching it with me, Tink,” he says quietly. “That – that makes it a bit easier.”

She smiles gently. “Of course, Killian.”

Later that night, after he’s showered and gotten ready for bed, Killian pulls his suitcase towards him. He finished unpacking weeks ago now, but there’d been one thing he hadn’t had the heart to take out just yet.

 _I didn’t realize you were sentimental_ , she’d said to him on one of their later dates.

 _I’m not_ , but that was a lie if he ever told one.

He flips the suitcase open and reveals the very same first impression rose that Emma had given him that night. Its petals are a dark scarlet now, even browning on the edges, and Killian stares at it for a long time, flipping it between his fingers. It was the only one he’d ended up keeping, and he’s considered throwing it out for weeks, but his hand always hesitates. Tonight, instead of tossing it back into his suitcase, out of sight and out of mind, he places it next to Milah’s self-portrait and the insignia from Liam’s gear bag on his bedside table, stepping backwards to look at them all there together, a sad little shrine to all those he’s lost.

<> 

After that first night, Monday nights with Tink become his ritual. It is easy to watch with her, because she already knows how it all ends, and he allows himself the one night to relive the feelings, to watch himself fall harder and harder for Emma Swan, watching her fall for him too. And then, when he wakes up every Tuesday morning, he puts it out of his mind.

Well, as best as he can. Luckily, New York City is large enough that no makes a big fuss over it all; he disappears in the masses of the city just like anyone else, but every once and while someone will recognize him, shriek with glee and rush towards him. They want to know what happens, how it all ends, but Killian only smiles tightly at them and says he isn’t allowed to say. They leave with pictures, with autographs, leaving him in turn with well wishes and hopeful smiles.

Other than that, he has little to none fan interaction. He doesn’t have a Twitter, and other than the mandatory press releases and interviews, he refuses all offers from the many magazines and TV shows who want to know more about ‘the hot English ex-navy officer’.

But he knows he is an instant audience favourite. The constant streams of requests for interviews tell him that much, and he isn’t much surprised. The broken-hearted widower, whose wife was murdered by her psychotic ex, with the too blue eyes and the English accent – the perfect combination for the general American public.

Graham is a favourite too, he knows, and why wouldn’t he be? He is sweet, kind, gentle. Thoughtful to a fault. Perfect in almost every way. Accented too – Irish, instead – but still. Also an instant draw for the millions who watch the show.

While watching the show over the twelve weeks, Killian wonders if he should hate Graham. If others in his situation have hated the man who won, the man who got to be with the woman they loved more than anything in the world. But he can’t find it in himself to do it. They’d been friends all through the show – as close as friends as you can be in this situation, anyways. They’d first bonded over their shared heritage, the only two non-Americans on the show, and had remained close right until the end.

The show keeps airing, and Killian watches as they all travel from LA to Boston to Athens to Vienna to Paris (where he and Emma had a beautiful date in a pink flowered meadow that makes his heart ache watching it again) to Rio to Tallahassee and then, there are only four contestants left and it’s time for them to all go home and introduce Emma to their worlds.

He had brought Emma to New York City. It isn’t his hometown – the show didn’t want to fly all the way to London when he has no family there and nothing but bad memories anyways – and he introduced her to Tink, Ruby, Will, Victor, and Ruby’s granny.

Tink is ecstatic to see herself on TV, and Killian even acquiesces to let the others come over and watch it all together too. This particular date had been all his idea (which had been thrilling at the time – he was finally the one who got to plan it all). He owns a small sailboat, bought with any and all savings he had a couple years ago, and he takes her out on it. They then relax at Central Park for a few hours, quickly jet over to the Statue of Liberty (she’d never seen it before, and he was eager to show it to her) and then a dinner at Granny’s diner with the others. It feels so surreal to see that little place on the screen. Granny is thrilled (“More customers!”), and her excitement fills the room, so much so that even Will and Victor are honestly interested in the episode.

His heart hurts just watching his friends’ excitement, the easy way he is able to forget the actual outcome just based on their reactions to the episode. They had all loved Emma; she had fit in so easily with their group. It was as if she’d always been a part of them, and knowing that Killian will never again get to spend an evening of fun with his friends and Emma is heart breaking.

The next week, Emma and her finalists are all back together in the Bahamas, save Jefferson, who didn’t make it past hometowns. Emma only lets the final three – August, Graham, and him – meet Henry. His is the last outing, after August’s dirt-biking adventure with Henry and Graham’s day spent volunteering with the poor children in Nassau. He remembers his day well, and his heart stings at the memory. They’d gone sailing in the clear blue sea – a sly smile on Emma’s face when she told him the day’s plans – and Henry had absolutely loved it. The cameras had been on a trailing boat, but it had run out of gas halfway through the day, leaving Killian alone with Emma and Henry for at least two hours. It had been magical, getting to be with them with no nosy cameramen, and even with the outcome being what it is, Killian thinks he will always treasure that memory.

That day was the only time he got to spend with Henry, but Emma told him later (later, when they were alone in their private suite and the cameras were finally gone) that Henry had loved their day the best. That he had liked him the best. That, now, hurts a lot more, and he suddenly feels very sad that he will likely never get to talk to Henry again.

He watches the promo for next week, the week where it was just him and Graham, the final week. The week where it all ended so terribly.

This is also the week where he met David Nolan, Emma’s foster brother, as well as his wife Mary Margaret. They are as close as Emma has to family (other than Henry, of course), and Killian had honestly liked the both of them a great deal. Like with Henry, he feels deep regret he’ll never get to see them again.

“I think I know what Emma will do,” Mary Margaret says in a voice over for the promo, images of Graham and Killian flashing by on the screen. “And I’m afraid that it will be the wrong decision.”

He wonders what Mary Margaret was thinking, who she was thinking was the right decision and who was the wrong. He wonders, as he shuts the promo off and heads to bed without a word to Tink, if he’ll ever know.

If it even matters anymore.

<> 

_Los Angeles, today_

And then the finale. This one he doesn’t watch, doesn’t want to put himself through it. He has been flown out to LA for the ‘After the Final Rose’ ceremony anyways so he couldn’t even watch it at home with popcorn and Tink if he wanted, and he has no desire to watch that particular episode by himself. Instead, the finale plays live to the assembled studio audience just feet away from him, but he doesn’t want to know.

Doesn’t want to relive the end once more.

He thinks, pulling on his suit jacket, about how he told Tink it was just a stupid TV show and he realizes how right he was. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Love and happiness for at most two people, but nothing but heartbreak and disaster for the others.

But, after today, he thinks with a grim set to his jaw, tightening the black tie, he will be done with it all forever.

He grits his teeth, and runs his hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart. Today is the day he has been dreading for months. He watched the show to see her and that had been painful enough. Seeing her in person … well there are much more painful things he’d rather be doing than this.

She – _they_ are here too, in the very studio where Killian paces back and forth, but he is kept away from them backstage. His own team of publicists and producers accompany him to his dressing room, chattering about what types of things he should say and what types of things he shouldn’t, but he is hardly listening.

He knows that they are still together – the tabloids had spoiled that weeks ago – and soon she’ll be sitting out on that stage, arm in arm with Graham, ring on her finger, as they chat excitedly about their love, their happiness, their future.

And then it’ll be his turn, to sit there and be gracious, be honourable, be kind. Talk about how heartbroken he was, but how happy he is for her. And, at least, _that_ will be the truth. Through watching the show, Killian has realized that, no matter how he himself feels, that he is indeed happy for her. Ever since the moment he met Emma (hell, since the moment he first _saw_ her), he has wanted nothing more than for her to be happy. If there is anyone in the entire world who deserves to find their happy ending, as far as Killian is concerned it is Emma Swan. And if Emma believes it’s with Graham, then he is happy for her.

The episode ends with cheers from the audience that filter all the way back to his dressing room, the door left ajar by a departing make-up assistant. Then the host announces the interview with Emma and her fiancé – _for the first time together in public!_ – and Killian shuts his door firmly to mask the sound.

He sits in silence, waiting and dreading when it will be his turn. Then, there is a knock on the door and he rises. He can hear the audience’s applause as the producer leads him down the dark hallway – _for Emma and Graham_ , he thinks resignedly – and then he is being ushered to stand awkwardly backstage while the host introduces him to the crowd.

He steps out to overwhelming cheers, but it all becomes a dull roar to him as he makes his way up to the raised interview circle. It is only the host out there for now, Emma having disappeared backstage again until the time they’ll bring her out to face him, and Killian can’t help the flood of relief and disappointment, mixed together in a confusing jumble, that hits him when he sees only the host on stage.

After shaking his hand, the host begins with courtesy questions, and then asks a few of the rehearsed questions from backstage. Killian’s answers are short and concise, echoing the sentiments the producers want him to say, and he feels very much absent from the whole procedure. Smile, nod, repeat. Smile, nod, repeat.

“So, Killian, do you have any questions you want to ask Emma?”

He pauses, unsure how to answer. The producers had told him just to be honest on this one, but hell if he’s gonna do that. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it,” he lies, and the audience laughs, laughs at the absurdity that he hasn’t spent every day of the last three months agonizing over what he would ask Emma.

“Fair enough,” the host continues, cool and calm. “Now, throughout this season, you and Graham were standouts. Emma clearly favoured both of you from the beginning – you even got the first impression rose.”

He simply nods, not trusting his voice.

“There was always an incredible amount of passion and honesty between the two of you, right from the get-go. I have known Emma a good deal of time, and I don’t think I’ve known anyone to break through her walls as quickly and decisively as you. I have to admit: I thought for certain you were going to win. But yet, here you sit. So Killian. What do you think it was, in the end, that made her choose someone else?”

He already knows, but he doesn’t want to say. Doesn’t want to expose Emma’s secrets to the world, because as much as she tries to show to the outer world that she’s not still the scared little lost girl, scared of being hurt again, scared of losing another person she loves, Killian knows better. He saw through her right away, read her like an open book, and even if she doesn’t want him, he would never do anything to betray or hurt her.  

“I guess I just wasn’t right for her,” he says finally.

And maybe that’s even the truth. Maybe, at this point in time, at any point in time, they won’t be right for each other. Their pasts are both too painful, their souls too damaged, their hearts too guarded.

Choosing Graham was the safe option. Graham, sweet, gentle, Graham would never hurt Emma the way Killian knows Emma feared he could. If it ended with Graham, Emma would recover. Emma would harden her heart once more, thicken her skin, wrap her arms around herself like a shield, and be okay. But with Killian … it wouldn’t work that way. He’d only known her for three months, but even in that time, there was too much there between them, too much that would break them both if they continued and it all fell apart.

“Just before we bring her out,” the host says, “I have one more question for you, Killian.” The host pauses, for dramatic effect, and Killian stares politely back at him, willing it all to be over. “Do you still love Emma?”

This wasn’t a question the publicists had rehearsed for him, which, he thinks wildly was probably the point. Catch him off guard, make his answer more genuine. For a moment, he stares back at the host, unsure of what to say. The truth? A lie? A bit of both?

The host is looking expectantly at him, and Killian swallows. “I think,” he says, slowly, weighing each word before he says it, “that when you have truly loved someone, you can never really let go of it.”

The audience _oohs_ and _awes_ , and the host smiles. “I have to agree with you there, Killian. Now, let’s bring her out – ladies and gentlemen, our bachelorette, Emma Swan!”

The crowd cheers, and Emma steps out from backstage. She looks absolutely stunning ( _as always_ , Killian thinks, dazedly), dressed in a bright blue cocktail dress, her golden hair down in bouncy curls that cascade around her bare shoulders.

But even as he watches her approach, he realizes this isn’t the Emma he remembers from their time together. She hides it pretty well, smiling and waving politely to the crowd as she walks up to join them, but there is a heaviness to her walk, and he wonders if anyone else can notice the stiff set to her shoulders, how she can barely look him in the eye, how badly her hands are shaking.

She comes right up to him, giving him the cursory hug, but it is quick and he barely feels the warmth of her before the host is gesturing them to their seats. He sits down, feeling a bit numb, emotions swirling between pain at seeing her again and worry over what has made her so visibly on edge.

Emma sits right beside him, but at a safe distance, their legs not even brushing against each other. A flash of light catches his eye, and he glances down to see her twirling the diamond ring on her finger anxiously. A fresh wave of heartbreak rolls over him at that, and he has to clench his jaw tight to keep quiet.

“It’s good to see you again, Killian,” Emma says quietly, and his eyes snap up to hers. She stares back at him and Killian instantly forgets that they’re on a stage in front of hundreds of people, on camera in front of millions, and it is suddenly just him and Emma, the only people in the world who matter at this moment.

“Same with you, Emma,” he says, and it’s the honest truth. “I’m – I’m really happy for you,” he adds, clearing his hoarse throat and hoping he doesn’t sound like a total fool. “That you’ve found your happy ending.”

She smiles back, but her eyes are still guarded. “Thank you.” She clears her own throat then and says, “I just want to say that I’m sorry for how things ended, Killian. I truly did care a lot for you, and I – I still do. Everything I told you in the show, everything I said I felt – it was the truth. And … and I’m sorry for the heartbreak I know I must’ve caused you. That was never my intention.”

“I know,” he replies softly, and he aches to reach to grasp her hand, to squeeze it and reassure her that he knows she’s telling the truth, that he accepts what she’s chosen, no matter how hard it was ( _is_ ) for him.

He doesn’t get a chance to even say anything else; the producers seem to want to keep their conversation short, because before Killian knows it, the host is announcing a commercial break. Killian can’t even get into say another word to Emma, a flock of stagehands and producers descending upon him like flies and ushering him away before he even registers what is happening. “You’ll come out again at the very end,” they tell him, pushing him back backstage.

He twists as they shove him forward, desperate for one last glance at Emma, but she is surrounded by make-up artists and blocked from his view.

Back in his dressing room, Killian is left alone with his thoughts. He’d been expecting it to be heart wrenchingly painful to see Emma again, to destroy him even more so than he already was, but he can hardly focus on his own emotions, too caught up in her. The one thing he’d had to comfort him all these months is that Emma was truly happy, that she was at peace and satisfied with her decision to choose Graham. But she is so clearly not, and it worries him. He wonders if it is simply because she was anxious about having to see him again, worried what his reaction to her would be. There is a ring of truth to that thought to him, but it doesn’t seem quite right and he can’t place the exact reason why she appeared so _un-Emma._

The door bursts open to his dressing room then, and Killian nearly jumps out of his skin. It’s simply a stagehand, who gestures wildly for Killian to follow him, and, his heart still racing, he does so without a word.

The sounds of the show filter back to him as he approaches the backstage area, where he is told firmly to wait until the end – the producers want him to come back out at the end of the show. It should be coming up soon, they tell him, and then leave him to stand awkwardly alone – right beside a TV monitor displaying what is going on onstage.

Killian can’t help himself – he looks at the TV.

Emma sits with Graham on the sofa, their hands clasped tight together, while the host makes some small chat with them. Graham does most of the talking, and Emma looks happy enough, Killian thinks, but there is still that nervous edge to her, the tight clench of her jaw that would be missed by everyone except him.

He is still trying to work out what the hell is going on when the image on the monitor changes then, flashing to the host, who turns a gleaming smile right to the camera. He announces that August, the 2nd runner up, will be appearing as the next Bachelor and August himself comes out from the other side of backstage then, dressed (as usual, Killian thinks with a roll of his eyes) in his motorcycle jacket. The crowd explodes with applause, cheering and shrieking in delight as August joins Emma, Graham and the host on the stage. Absently, Killian notes that it’s rather strange it is that the producers didn’t even approach him to do it – he is entirely relieved they didn’t even ask, and would have turned it down in an instant, mind, but wasn’t it the usual that the 2nd place contestant becomes the next shining star?

The thought dissipates as soon as it comes, because then a producer is there, pushing him out to join the rest of the cast on the stage. August comes over to say hello and Killian claps him on the back. They both share a laugh over the idea of August as the next Bachelor, and a few of the others guys appear then, having been seated in the crowd, and greet Killian warmly.

Then it’s all finally over, the cameras capturing the last few moments as the crowd stands and claps. The director shouts out “AND CUT” and Emma lets go of Graham’s hand almost immediately, striding right up to Killian and wrapping her arms around him tightly.

Killian instantly tenses up, unsure of what is happening, but then, as if on instinct, wraps his arms tightly back around Emma.

“I need to talk to you,” Emma whispers, so only he can hear. “Please.”

He pulls away from her, and smiles gently, aware the eyes of the entire audience are now on them. “Okay.”

He wants to go out to a bar, get her a glass of rum as he always did on the show, to see if she’ll still roll her eyes at him over it and jokingly call him an ex-pirate instead of an ex-sailor. He wants to get as far as way as possible from the stupid set, but he knows they can’t do it. Rumours would circulate faster than a match on fire – _did you see the tabloids? The Bachelorette out with her 2 nd place not even an hour after the finale! _

Graham (as if by some pre-arranged knowledge) begins pulling all the attention to him, calling out loudly to August and a few of the other guys and the audience is sufficiently distracted; it allows Emma and Killian to slip away without anyone noticing.

When they arrive at his dressing room, he closes the door quietly behind her, drowning out the loud conversations of the crew as they begin packing up for the night, and leaving them in the silence of what remains.

Emma is standing in the middle of the room when he turns around, hands clasped nervously in front of her. She still doesn’t look at him, but he can see that she’s finally letting her hidden unhappiness leak out of her carefully constructed public persona, enough so even someone other than him would be able to tell something is wrong.

“Emma?” he says, stepping towards her. “What is it?”

She finally turns to look at him, her eyes blinking back unshed tears. “Graham and I broke up.”

Whatever he was expecting her to say, that was certainly not it. He is certain his jaw has dropped right to the floor, and he takes another step towards her to grasp her hands, his one good one tightening around both of hers. “I’m – I’m so sorry, Emma, that’s awful –”

But to his bewilderment, she lets out a watery laugh, and grips his hand tighter in hers, pulling his prosthetic hand up in a tight clasp too, and she tugs him closer so that they’re nearly toe-to-toe. “Oh, Killian. No, no I’m not sad about that. We broke up months ago.”

He blinks, and his hold tightens on her hands. “You – really?”

She nods, and smiles slightly, almost a bit shyly, which just confuses him even more. “We got home when the show was done, and once there were no more cameras around, when it was just us and Henry, we realized – well, I realized it first, but he agrees now too – that we were better off as friends. There just wasn’t – we just aren’t right for each other.”

He can only stare back at her, his heart pounding heavily in his chest, the silence around them loud in his ears. “I don’t understand,” he says, finally. “You – you –” he gestures vaguely in the direction of the stage and then down at her left hand, entwined with his, unable to say anything else, but Emma understands.

“The producers didn’t want a repeat of last season,” she explains, withdrawing her hands to hastily twist the diamond ring off her finger, setting it down on the makeup table beside her. “It’s bad for publicity. They said we have to keep up the appearance for at least two months after tonight, and then we can announce it and go our separate ways.”

He gapes back at her, still not knowing what to say, with so many thoughts running through his mind that he thinks it may implode. Emma continues, grasping his hand again, and he turns his focus back to her. “I wanted to tell you, I did, I’m so sorry, Killian – but, but they told me I couldn’t. They wanted you to be sincere tonight, to honestly not know anything. And I – I was afraid of breaking my contract with them. I didn’t want to get sued, I didn’t want to have to put Henry through another court case, the last one was so hard on him, and –”

“No,” Killian says, through numb lips. “No, I understand, don’t be sorry.”

A bit of relief appears in her demeanour then, cracking through the unhappiness that has settled around her like stone, and Emma reaches one hand to cradle his face. Her hand is so warm, and he leans unconsciously closer to her, his prosthetic hand coming up to rest against hers.

“Emma –”

“Please let me finish, Killian,” she insists, and he falls silent. “I’ve been thinking about what to say to you for weeks and I’ll never forgive myself if I let it all go to waste.” She takes a deep breath, stuttering a bit, and then words spill out of her. “Everything I said out there tonight, I meant. That I cared for you a lot, that everything I told you while on the show was true. But … but it’s not in the past tense. I couldn’t say that, not without getting in trouble with the producers, that’s why they cut our interview so short, they were afraid I’d say something wrong, but Killian, it was all true, I still care so much for you, _about_ you, I still lo–”

She nearly chokes on her words then, and Killian wants to butt in, to interrupt her and say that it’s all going to be okay because he finally feels like his heart is beating again, finally feels like he can breathe properly again in months, but Emma continues again before he has the chance.

“Killian, I was so scared. I – I was so frightened of what it could mean if I let myself choose you and it all ended up ending badly.” She takes another deep breath, and continues, her grip tightening on his hand. “But, re-watching the show, I just – I know what I want, Killian. And I’m just so tired of living in the past. Of being trapped in my own head, behind my own walls. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t _want_ to. I want – I want that future we talked about, the one we discussed in that flower field in Paris, remember? With that silly white picket fence and watching MasterChef marathons and Henry running around in the backyard and the three of us sailing on the weekends and –” Her voice falters then, but she pushes on, her voice far braver than his could ever be. “I still want it if … if you do too.”

Her voice cracks on the last word and then they fall into a loud silence, Killian still too taken aback to say anything. A thousand words are floating through his mind, screaming to be said, but it’s as if he has lost the ability to translate those thoughts into words, his tongue numb and frozen in place.

Emma sniffles once then, and pulls away from him, her hand leaving his face cold and empty without her. Her eyes flicker away from his face then, and she says, quietly, “Please say something.”

He takes another step towards her, and this time it’s his turn to cradle her face. He brushes stray strands of hair off her face, and wipes at the smeared mascara and tears pooling underneath her eyes. “I have thousands of things to say,” he says, softly, “but you’ve rendered me speechless, Emma Swan.”

She smiles nervously then, a hesitant hope lighting up her eyes. “Speechless,” she echoes. “Like, in a good way? Or –?”

He grins, smiling for what feels like the first time in months. “Oh, I’d say in a good way,” he says, and a full-on schoolgirl giggle escapes her at that. Then she is kissing him, hands pulling tightly on the lapels of his suit jacket so that he is nearly crushed against her. Her lips are warm and taste as he remember – cinnamon and chocolate and mint toothpaste – and he can’t help smiling back into her kiss. His good hand comes up, tangling in her hair, as he pulls her even closer with the prosthetic hand at her back.

She is the one to finally break the kiss a few minutes later, but she doesn’t pull away far, lingering still close by, and her breath tickles his mouth when she next speaks, her voice gentle and soft.

“I love you, Killian.”

He takes in a deep breath, savouring hearing the words from her lips, words he only dreamed of for so long. “Oh, Emma, I love you, too.”

They stand there for a few moments, still gripping each other as tight, both too afraid to let go and wake up from this dream that they’ve found themselves in. Then, a loud clatter and curse from the hallway outside startles them both, and they, chuckling and smiling, finally release their death-grip on each other. Killian feels so completely happy, so euphoric with this turn of events that he can only grin back at her, and his expression is met with a brilliant smile in return.

“What do you want to do now?” he asks. “I mean, once you and Graham can announce it, what would the next step be –"

“I don’t know if I want to get married,” Emma interrupts. His mouth drops open, and he hastily tries to say that wasn’t even what he was getting at but Emma barrels right over him before he can even speak. “At least right away. Or well, I don’t even know if I ever will. This show … well, it has kind of soured me on the whole marriage thing. I just know – I just know that I don’t want to ever lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he whispers in reply. “As long as I live, I will do so by your side.” Then he grins, and taps gently on her nose. “Although, I do have to say, Swan, for someone who doesn’t want to get married, you sure chose the wrong show.”

She laughs, that rich, deep laugh that he’s missed so badly, and he tightens his grip around her, pulling her back into his embrace. “Yeah, well, Mary Margaret really twisted my arm into that one.” She pulls away enough to stare into his eyes, her gaze bright and intense. “I guess I’ll have to thank for her it after all.”

They remain in silence again for a few moments, until Emma sighs, pulling away from him to pick up the diamond ring from the table. “Well, as for the immediate future, I have to go get on a plane to New York and do hundreds of interviews, smiling until my face hurts and my eyes go cross-eyed. And then after that … I guess we’ll have to see.”

His eyes fall on the ring, but this time his heart doesn’t clench at the sight. “New York,” he repeats. “I live in New York.”

The same bright radiant smile he has been missing for months appears on her face then, and she punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Why do you think I agreed to do all the press there?”

He laughs then, and bends his head to kiss her again, Emma pressing up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway.

Once they’ve pulled apart several minutes later, both breathless and giddy, she says, “Henry is meeting me there on Friday. David and Mary Margaret are bringing him up from Boston. He’s really missed you. Maybe … maybe once I’m done with all the interviews, we could go out on your sailboat? Just the three us.”

He leans his head forward, resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and just taking in the feel of her breath against his cheek. “I think that is a brilliant plan.”

Emma smiles again, he can feel the crinkle of her forehead against his own. “Though David may need some convincing to let just us go, he’s got it in his head that you two are going to be best friends and he won’t take lightly to being left out.”

Killian chuckles, and presses a kiss to Emma’s forehead. “Well it’s a good thing we have all the time in the world for as many sailing trips as we want." 

<> 

_Los Angeles, tomorrow_

When he calls Tink, she screams into his ear so loud he’s sure his neighbours at home are going to call the cops because they think someone is being murdered. After swearing her to secrecy and assuring her that he’s gonna be home later that afternoon and not to do anything stupid in the meantime, he hangs up the phone with a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. 

Stupid, stupid show.

And yet, entirely worth it.


End file.
